Never Forgive: Never Forget
by myra breccia
Summary: Harry is framed for murder and sent to Azkaban, re-emerging a year and half later a VERY different person. Angst, adventure, and plotting ensue! Enjoy!
1. Prologue: A taste of darkness

**Disclaimer**: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters in it. If I did, I would not be living the life I currently am.

A/N: This is my first ever fanfic, so reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated! I am really bad at continuing the stories I start, so hopefully reviewers will be my motivation. Also thanks to my partner: this story was her idea and I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without her! I don't really know where this is going, so let me know if you have ideas or requests. I have a paring in mind, but you'll have to wait to find out who it is!

**Prologue: A Taste of Darkness**

He felt a dull, throbbing ache at the base of his skull, a pounding pressure on his eyelids as slowly his senses returned to him, and he realized he was splayed out on a cold stone floor. Now where… The last place he remembered being was the carpeted corridor between the charms and transfiguration departments, so what was with the slick cold tile underneath him. Squinting against the glare that greeted him when he finally risked cracking his eyelids, Harry looked down to find himself lying in a pool of blood. A pool that seemed to have emanated from the cooling corpse of George Weasley, laying in a contorted ball next to Harry.

Catching site of the corpse, Harry scrambled away. A bad idea, considering his sopping robes drew a trail of blood across the floor of what he now realized to be the 3rd floor bathroom. Horrified with the spectacle before him, Harry tried to jump-start his sluggish brain into action by pacing back and forth from the sinks to the toilets. Finally, his common sense kicked in, and he decided to go to Dumbledore's office, were he was sure to receive an explanation.

With the triumph of his decision in his eyes, Harry turned to the door, and ran straight into Draco Malfoy. Malfoy took one look at the scene behind Harry before pivoting on the heel and running down the hallway screaming "Potter's murdered Weasley, Potter's murdered Weasley."

'Just great,' thought Harry. 'This is the last thing I need: Malfoy spreading more nasty rumors about me. Besides, how could I have killed him if I was knocked out on the floor the whole time?'

Still groggy from his earlier state, Harry failed to notice the approaching footsteps until they were almost upon him.

"Well, well, well, Mr.Potter, I do believe this gets you a one way ticket to Azkaban, for sure." He'd know that sickly-sweet voice anywhere. Turning, he was greeted with the revolting sight of Professor Umbrage grinning like a maniac.

Harry growled, "I didn't do anything! I just woke-"

"No lies can get you cleared of what you've done, Potter," she interrupted, smiling evilly at Harry.

"But I'm not-"

"What seems to be the problem here?" Malfoy had returned with the Headmaster.

"Professor I-" Harry began.

"As you can see, _Albus_, Harry has obviously just murdered this poor boy, and I am about to place him under arrest. He will be brought to trial in the next few days, and, I am sure, sentenced to a lifetime's imprisonment in Azkaban."

Before Dumbledore could get a word in edgewise, Umbrage waved her wand, and Harry could feel invisible ropes tighten about his body, effectively gagging him and towing his body down the hall behind the brisk, squat figure of Umbrage's retreating body, leaving in their wake a startled Dumbledore.

Harry was beginning to think clearly now, and he could feel his anger beginning to surface. Umbrage was framing him...again! Damn it, why did these things always happen to him. Here he was, hoping his life could be normal for once, and he was already being dragged back to the ministry, under ANOTHER false charge, after only three and a half months.

Struggling to reach his wand and resist the invisible force yanking him down the corridor, he only succeeded in forcing the ropes tighter about himself. His asp of pain as the gouged into his flesh caused Umbrage to turn and grin maliciously at him.

"I'd keep still if I were you, Potter. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, now would we?" She giggled happily at her own joke, obviously pleased what Harry was in pain.

He gritted his teeth and allowed himself to be pulled along behind Umbrage as she opened the door to her office and hauled him inside. The last thing he remembered seeing was her reaching for a handful of floo powder as she waved her wand at him, and a overwhelming wave of pain washed over him, sending him careening into blackness.

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, and please review! Be as harsh as you like!


	2. Chapter 1: Remember not to Trust

**A/N:**Thanks for waiting! Hope you like it, though I should warn you it will slow down for a couple of chapters, but hang in there! It will get _much _better!grins evilly

**Chapter 1: Remember not to Trust**

Harry could feel the eyes boring into his back as ha dragged his trunk down the isle of the train. The whispers were infuriating, after the long silence of the last year and a half. Well, 'silence' wasn't exactly the right work, more like… No; he would not start down that line of thought.

Snapping his mind back to the present, Harry continued along the train, searching for an empty compartment. Nearing the end of the train, he finally found a compartment void of any occupants. Shoving his trunk into the overhead luggage rack and slamming the door behind him, Harry sank onto the cushion. He tipped his head back and began massaging his temples, shutting his eyes to the bright light of the platform.

--

Harry opened his eyes, and quickly shut them again as he realized that the train was now moving and the sunlight was stabbing in through the window. Groaning, he found he must have dropped off, for he was sprawled out across his seat.

Harry jumped when he heard the wound of a throat clearing from the seat across from him. His eyes flew open to revel… Oh, no; he was hoping to put off this meeting until the feast, at the very earliest.

"Hello, Harry." Harry was surprised at how subdued the voice sounded.

When Harry didn't respond, the voice went on, "I'm so sorry for way those bloody idiots put you through! It really wasn't the same without you here!"

Despite the sincerity he could hear in the boy's voice, Harry growled. "You're sorry. _SORRY?_ You turned you back on me when I needed you more than any other time in my life, and now you're sorry for me? Oh, no Ron, you don't even know who I am anymore. And you don't deserve the opportunity to learn!" Harry wrenched open the compartment door. Good thing he had changed into his robes before entering the platform, because there was no way in hell he was going anywhere near the bastard in that train compartment.

Harry looked out the windows and figured, judging by the scenery flashing by, that they would arrive in about 45 minutes. He sighed and placed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. But the jarring seemed to drag him down, and he could feel himself shuddering, remembering those torturous… NO! Harry struggled to quench the stream of horrors climbing with the bile up his throat.

Sinking to the floor, Harry let his head sink between his knees, forcefully thinking about anything but…that. A pair of footsteps coming towards him served as a welcome relief from his pained thoughts, at least until he recognized who they belonged to.

Grimacing, and allowing his displeasure to show on his face, Harry slowly rose to his feet. Ron and Hermione quailed under his rage-filled gaze.

"What do you want with me?" he spat.

"H-Harry, w-we ju-st though you-u might w-want to say hell-lo. I m-mean, we ha-haven't seen each other for o-over a y-year," Hermione stuttered out. Harry could hear the pain in her voice, but he ignored it; after all, it was nothing compared to the pain he had had to face this last year. Preferring to focus instead on the disgust he felt at her showing her weakness by stuttering. But at least she was better than the cowered of a weasel next to her. Harry was almost amused… who would have thought he would ever use Malfoy's nave for Ron. 'Then again, the name does fit him,' Harry thought, slowly scanning the couple standing in front of him.

His rage had turned to ice, and now he only felt pity for how weak these two seemed to have become, or maybe it was the other way around: maybe he had gotten stronger. This though pleased him, though he did not allow the emotions to venture beyond his mind. He'd had a year and a half to perfect keeping his emotions hidden, and Azkaban was the best school on earth in which to learn the control of pain. The thought of the 'training' he had received there almost sent another shudder racing through him, though he held it inside. God forbid these two twits see him weak: never again would he allow anyone to see how he felt.

This he had vowed upon his release from his prison. He nearly snorted with disbelief: release? As if he would ever truly leave that place. He had lost his soul there, and that part of him would always remain within the confines of his dungeon…unless he could win it back.

Harry gave the two one last glare before turning on his heel and gliding down the hall way.

Ron started to say something to Harry, but before he could finish, Harry had whipped back around, pulling out his wand

"You are not to speak to me, look at me, touch me, or think about me," he ground out though gritted teeth, "I am no longer your friend!"

Laughing inside at the shocked and hurt expressions on their faces, Harry turned around again, and strode off. As he put his wand back into his pocket, Harry glanced around, to see staring faces pressed up against the windows of the compartments. Finally he came to one that 

seemed empty. Wrenching the door open, he slid inside, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the seat.

Suddenly, Harry heard a rustling and looked up to find the seat across from him was occupied, after all.

"Potter," Malfoy sneered, "what do you think you're doing?" Malfoy had his traditional smirk on his face, and his wand was about a foot away from Harry's nose.

"Oh, Malfoy. Where are your bodyguards today?" Harry sneered right back. "Finally decided to stand up for yourself?"

Malfoy snarled and sent a curse flying towards Harry's head. Harry dove to the side, sliding off the seat as he did so. Quickly pulling out his own wand, Harry cast a shield charm, finally looking up to see Malfoy's laughing face above him. Harry could feel the edge in that laughter and he felt a strange and unfamiliar feeling in his gut.

"You don't do so hot yourself, without your little 'friends' watching your back! Though, I suppose I have to thank you: I didn't expect to laugh today," Malfoy managed to spit out around his dying laughter.

At the word 'friend' harry stiffened. "Don't ever call them that again, Malfoy," Harry said, his voice going flat and cold.

Malfoy shivered at Harry's tone, and before he realized it, he felt himself nodding in agreement to Harry's demand. Hurriedly hiding his shock at Harry's statement, Malfoy put out a hand to help Harry up. After staring at Malfoy for a moment, Harry reached up and took it. Malfoy pulled him most of the way to his feet and then let go, and Harry fell back to the ground. Harry glared at Malfoy as he started laughing again. Harry pulled himself to his feet and brushed himself off, finally sitting back down across from Malfoy.

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Malfoy returned Harry's stare. "What? I didn't think you'd fall for it. Figured the last 6 years taught you no to trust me."

Harry continued to stare at Malfoy for another few second, his mouth slightly open. The he suddenly grinned and said, "You're right… I should know by now."

Malfoy, surprised by Harry's lack of animosity simply shrugged. "Pleasurable as this encounter has been, could you get the hell out of my compartment now?"

Harry glanced up and, still grinning, slid open the door of the compartment. "Sure, I'll leave you to your solitude!" With a mock bow and one final glance in Malfoy's direction, Harry shut the door and started down the hall.

Well, at least someone still thought of him the same way.

It wasn't until Harry had finally given up on finding an empty compartment and simply sunk down in the middle of the hallway at the end of the train that he finally realized what the feeling he had felt while hearing Malfoy laugh was.

Harry laughed for the first time in two years: he had felt relief.

_fin de capitulo uno_


	3. Chapter 2: Count your Blessings

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long guys. I wrote the whole chap and then decided I didn't like it, so I re-wrote the whole thing. Hope you like it.

**Chapter 2**

Harry felt the train ground to a halt. He quickly stood up and sauntered out the nearest door. Being the first one off the train, Harry had his pick of the carriages walking all the way to the head of the line, Harry slipped inside the very first carriage, locking the door behind him.

"Ahh, at last. A little peace & quiet," Harry sighed, enjoying his solitude.

Deciding that this was as good a time as any for some spying, Harry cast a few quick charms. The first two changed the windows of the carriage into devices similar to muggle binoculars, allowing him to zoom in on whatever he chose, while making them one-sided, so no one could see him peering out. The next charm amplified his hearing in accordance with the window charm. In short, Harry could now effectively see and hear anything he chose, within a 100 meter radius.

Chuckling to himself at his inventiveness, Harry focused on the groups of students moving into the carriages.

He continued his spying until the carriages had reached the castle, and every other student had exited. Muttering, "_finite incantatem_" under his breath, Harry waited until all the other students had entered the castle before slipping his invisibility coat out of his pocket and donning it. Harry exited his carriage and swiftly climbed the stairs of the castle.

Harry slid through the doors of the great hall, leaning on the wall at the end of the Gryffindor table. Still invisible, he cast another hearing charm so that he could eavesdrop on Ron & Hermione's conversation.

"Ron, I'm sure he was just surprised…"

"NO, Hermione, when are you going to admit it. Harry's changed. We can't trust him anymore!"

"Now see here, Ronald, he's been in AZKABAN for a year and a half! Of COURSE he's changed! That doesn't mean we can't trust him. He IS still Harry, after all."

Harry nearly snorted; yes, he had indeed changed, obviously, and he was only mildly surprised at Ron's suspicion. Apparently, Hermione didn't have Ron under her thumb thoroughly as Harry had hoped, but she still had managed to calm him down.

Harry spent the rest of the dinner eavesdropping on other's conversations. Overall, the students seemed to believe the Daily Prophet. He heard quite a few nasty comments so to his "true nature," but mostly they appeared to agree with the prophet's most recent news: that Harry's sentence was a tragic mistake.

'Well, this has certainly worked out to my advantage,' thought Harry. 'There isn't nearly as much animosity here as I expected. Perhaps they won't be so hard to win over after all.'

Once Harry had gleaned as much as he could without further prying, he slipped out of the great hall and made his way to the kitchens.

After tickling the pear, Harry stepped through the portrait, pulling off his cloak and stuffing it back in his expandable pocket as he did so.

Immediately, a swarm of house-elves descended upon him, plying him with more food than he could eat. As Harry had been literally starved to death throughout the last year and a half, he was nearly overwhelmed at the smells assailing him. During dinner, he had been occupied with…to many other things…to concentrate on food. But now he allowed himself to relax at a table in the corner, and enjoy his first good meal in a very, very, long time.

Harry remained in the kitchen for quite a while; brooding, plotting and enjoying his food. But at just a bit past midnight, he could no longer fight exhaustion. Reluctantly standing up from his table, he bid good night (or morning) to the house-elves, and thanking them for the delicious meal, he climbed back through the portrait and began his long journey up to the Gryffindor tower.

When Harry entered the familiar boy's dormitory, he saw that all the other boys were passed out in their beds.

"Ahh, that's a relief," Harry sighed, "so much simpler for me this way." Quickly, Harry cast a silent charm that forced all the boys into a deeper sleep, which they could not wake until Harry released the spell. Harry then cast a special charm he had leaned whilst in Azkaban. It forced nightmares upon the sleeper, ensuring they had a terrible night's sleep, and awoke completely drained, without remembering any of their dreams from the night before.

Harry then undressed and, while climbing into his bed, cast a quick silencing charm around his bunk, to keep his roommates from hearing the screams brought upon him by his own nightmares. He then removed the deep sleep spell, and tucked his wand under his pillow.

Through the past year, Harry had learned to fall asleep at will. He was not so talented, however, at remaining asleep. For losing awareness in a revolting cell surrounded by not-quite-humans who wanted nothing better than for Harry to suffer a long and agonizing death, was not a good idea. (A/N: gee, I do believe that was a run-on sentence…oops)

Shutting his eyes, Harry felt himself drift down into an enveloping peacefulness.

* * *

He was surrounded by a white light, and a strumming harp. Feeling stone beneath his feet, Harry began walking through the shining light, involuntarily raising his wand. Harry whispered, _"Alohamora!"_ and an unseen door clicked open.

The music grew louder, and now it was accompanied by loud snores.

But the moment he stepped through the door, the music came to an abrupt halt.

A few seconds past and Harry remained in the doorway, suddenly unable to move. Through the light, there came a low snarl. He caught sight of a dog's muzzle, before it changed. The snarl cut off, but where there had been a dog's nose, there was now a black stallion's. Two red eyes emerged from the light, and the stallion peeled back his upper lip, revealing glittering fangs. As Harry stared into the Nightmare's eyes, the light vanished, and he felt himself falling.

Harry hit the ground with a bone-shattering thud. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, he heard hoof-beats coming towards him. His eyes flew open, and he stared into blackness, unable to move, as the menacing hoof-beats came closer and closer. When he was sure the Nightmare must be nearly upon him the hoof-beats stopped.

Then Harry felt a cold weight on his thigh. With a jolt, he realized that he was completely naked, and incredibly filthy. He could feel the stone beneath him gouging into his back. The weight on his thigh shifted, and Harry let out an ear-shattering scream as a hoof the size of a dinner plate crushed his leg. Gasping for air and forcing back tears of agony, Harry bit his tongue to hold back his further screams as he waited for the next attack to come.

The second hoof settled on this chest, and Harry stopped breathing.

Feeling moist, hot breath on his cheek, Harry instinctively turned his head away, drawing in a sharp breath of air that bore the reek of rancid meat. He felt a cold prick on his neck, and then the Nightmare was drawing his fangs across Harry's neck.

When they reached his collarbone, leaving bashing two deep, bloody slashes, they paused.

Harry's breath hitched. He knew what was coming.  
His mouth opened, but before he could scream, the Nightmare simultaneously shifted his weight, crushing Harry's chest, and sunk his fangs a full four inches into Harry's neck, snapping Harry's collarbone as the Nightmare bit down.

Harry opened his eyes, finding himself staring up at the dorm ceiling. He could feel the lingering pain from his dream. Well, that was one question answered: the resilience he had built up to the nightmare curse during his dime in prison was still effective. He could remember clearly every second of his dream, and compared to most of his dreams, that didn't even count as a nightmare.

Pulling his wand from under his pillow, harry whispered _"lumos_._"_ Sitting up, he ran his fingers over the crescent-shaped scar, barely visible through the masses of other white scars crisscrossing his chest. The scar was shaped like an oversized horseshoe, and had a matching scar curving across the top of his left leg.

_fin de capitulo dos_

**A/N: **I have a couple questions:

How do you get into the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw dormitories? Like, where are their doors and stuff.

On what day of the term do they hand out class schedules?

If anyone knows, please tell me. I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, but I couldn't find this stuff: I'm really bad at locating tidbits of info in fat books.

Or if anyone knows a website that has usefull HP facts, please tell me.

I'll be leaving for 2 weeks, so I'll try to post chap 3 & 4 when I get back.

Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 3: Consequences of a Sleepless N

A/N: Sorry it took so long u guys: I was in Australia for 17 days, so I didn't have much time to write. Anyways, this chap is a little slow, but I promise it gets better next chap! And it's kinda short, but I wanted to get something up : Also, thanks to those of you who answered my questions last time. I really appreciate it! Enjoy!

**Full title: Consequences of a Sleepless Night**

Harry decided he would risk coming down to breakfast without his invisibility cloak. Waking well before any of the other boys, Harry quickly dressed. Slipping into the bathroom, he rushed through his morning ministrations. Picking up his book bag, Harry exited the dorms and made his way down to the great hall. As he was one to the first students there, he had his pick of the seats. Figuring he would test his luck, he chose a spot directly in the middle of the table. Pilling food onto the plate, he began eating slowly, waiting for the others to arrive.

Watching with trepidation, Harry saw half of Gryffindor file into the hall in little clumps. Each group saw him, and immediately distanced itself, leaving him sitting alone between two full ends of the table. Finally, Harry saw Ron & Hermione enter, followed closely by dean & Seamus. Hermione caught sight of him and, dragging a protesting Ron behind her, took the seat to Harry's right. Harry saw Dean glance at Seamus, shrug, and take the seat across from Harry. He saw Seamus hesitate, but he must have decided that he would rather deal with Harry and keep Dean's friendship than ignore them both.

"Good morning, Harry!" Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at her too-cheerful-to-be-real tone. Hermione babbled on; "I can't wait to get my schedule! So, what classes are you boys taking this year?' without waiting to hear their answers, Hermione rushed on, "I've got advanced ancient ruins…"

As she began to list off her classes, Harry zoned out, leaving only part of his attention on Hermione so that he would later remember the classes he could find her in. He was mildly surprised Hermione hadn't brought up his imprisonment. He supposed she had decided it wasn't worth invoking his wrath in front of Ron. But Harry new this wasn't the end of it; he would undoubtedly be interrogated by Hermione later.

Harry heard a clap echo though the hall. He looked up at the head table and was immediately gripped with fury, for there, sitting in the headmaster's chair, was Umbrage. Harry clenched his hand around his fork so hard he could feel the silver slicing into his hand. At the sharp pain, Harry regained his senses enough to shake his head, clearing it of the blinding rage that had temporarily commanded his senses. He opened his eyes and focused again on the front of the room. In the few seconds it had taken him to reach his calm, not much had changed: Umbrage was standing now standing on her char and repeatedly clearing her throat, but her authority was obviously lacking. Most of the students were completely ignoring her, choosing instead to continue with their conversations, but a few were looking expectantly towards Umbrage. The witch in question, who seemed to have reached her limit, lifted her wand in the air. Muttering a spell Harry could net decipher, she flicked her wrist, causing a resounding crack. After the shrieks of the students had died down, he finally turned to face Umbrage.

"Well, good morning to you all." Harry smirked at the exaggerated sarcasm in her voice. At least she could tell it was NOT a good morning, or at least it wouldn't be if he had anything to say about it. "I would like to announce that your heads of houses will now be passing out your class schedules. The majority of you will begin your classes in less than an hour. Do not be late. That will be all."

Harry noticed that by the time she had finished her second sentence nearly all the students had blocked her out. At least his enemy wasn't popular with the students: that would make his life a hell of a lot easier.

"So, Harry, how come they let you come back into 7th year, even though you left in 5th?"

Harry glanced up at Dean, surprised he would speak to Harry with Seamus right there. "Didn't you hear? Dumbledore was able to force _them_to allow me to study while I was in Azkaban." Hermione and Seamus both flinched when he said the word Azkaban, while Ron just glared.

To Harry's astonishment, Dean just laughed, "I never figured you to be the independent study type, Harry."

Well, Dean was proving to be an unpredictable faction, that's for sure. "I resent that, _Dean_, I can study if I _have_ to." Harry glowered at him, but he appreciated Dean's attempt at lightening the atmosphere.

"Really? _I_ wouldn't have guessed." Dean continued to laugh. Harry stuck his tongue out at him, and as he felt the corner of his mouth twitch up, he realized this year might actually be _fun_. Of course, he still blamed his classmates for his imprisonment, and he still wanted revenge on them, but perhaps he wouldn't have to avoid them completely.

At that moment, Harry heard _**McGonagall**_'s voice call from the head of the Gryffindor table, "Gryffindors, here are your class schedules. If you need to make any changes, please report to me no later than tomorrow afternoon at 4:00 and I'll see what I can do.

With a popping sound, a piece of parchment fell out of the air in front of Harry's nose. He reached out and grasped it before it could fall into his food. Scanning the parchment, Harry was pleased to see that all this classes were those expected for a 7th year student. Apparently all his hard studying had paid off.

This year, Harry was determined to ace every one of his classes. He was sick and tired of being the dumb hero, or the dumb criminal, as he had been all his life. He would show those idiots what he could do!

Suddenly, Harry was distracted by Dean and Seamus's conversation.

"Yah, me too; there was this huge wolf coming toward me, and he had glowing red eyes. When he snarled, I could see 15 cm fangs gleaming in his mouth. But the scary thing is, it was a real memory. I hadn't thought about it in years, but when I was 4 I got lost in the woods behind my house. It was getting dark, and I couldn't find the trail. All of a sudden, I heard something crashing through the brush behind me. I started running, panting, and after a few meters, I tripped over a tree root and fell. When I looked up, that wolf was what I saw. It's strange I'd have a nightmare about it now…" Seamus broke off as Harry gave a violent shudder at the word nightmare, causing his to drop his goblet and spill pumpkin juice all over the table.

Hermione, cleaning up the pumpkin juice with a wave of her wand, asked with concern in her voice, "What is…?"

Harry interrupted her, staring straight through Seamus with his eyes completely glazed over. "They're real, you know," he said with an absolutely toneless voice.

:What's real, Harry?" Seamus asked.

"Nightmares."

"Whadaya mean?" Ron snorted at Harry, rolling his eyes at the others.

Ignoring Ron, the other three tried to get Harry to explain, but no matter what they did Harry would not answer their questions, or come out of his trance.

_fin de capitulo tres_

A/N: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. Next chap we learn a little about Harry's time in Azkaban. It should be up the next couple of days. I already have it written, i just have to type it and edit. I should warn you, it has a bit of pain and blood (i have to earn the M rating, ya know? :P ). So if you don't like dark fics, much as it pains me to say it (tear), you prolly shouldn't keep reading, cuz it's just gonna get darker.


	5. Chapter 4: Welcome to the Darkness

**Chapter 4: Welcome to the Darkness**

I don't know what time it is, or how long I've been here. I am crouching on a hard, wet cement floor. My cell is a meter square, allowing me just enough room to sit with my legs crossed. I think it has about for days since the trial, judging by my hunger and thirst. I've managed to keep my thirst at bay by licking the wet cement. I could feel the horror and disgust towards the creature they'd forced me to become fill me.

The trial had been a horrible blur of colours and sounds. With my huger-hazed brain, all I can remember now are the horrified faces of the spectators, and the smug look on Umbrage's face as the Wizengamot voted me unanimously guilty. I believe I was locked up in chains; I remember the pain of them cutting into me, leaving bloody marks. I look down now, cramped in my cell, and see the fading cuts, soon to become scars.

Looking at my left hand, I see the white scars "_I must not tell lies_" carved there by my own hand. I feel the fury again, burning me up from the inside out, consuming me. I welcome it. Were it not for my desire to revenge myself upon those who have reduced me to this state, I would have given up all hope by now.

They'd dragged me, stumbling along behind them, out of the courtroom door, into the lift, and then out of the lift onto the floor of the foyer of the Ministry. The second the lift clanged open, the eyes of the hundreds of wizards moving about the room fixed upon us. When they saw the chains draped about me, the whole room froze, and silence descended.

The chief warlock stepped up behind me and pulled up my hands, which were chained at the wrist, until they were above my head, forcing me to bend forward to save my shoulders from dislocation. Refusing to bow down to them, I lifted my china and held my head high, painful though it may have been. I was NOT guilty, whatever their verdict may have been.

With his other hand, the chief lifted his wand to his throat, whispered _sonorous_, and declared in a voice that echoed throughout the hall, "The Wizengamot has tried the former _savior_ Harry Potter, and voted unanimously that he is guilty of the crime of murdering George Weasley. His sentence shall be life imprisonment in Azkaban."

I fought then. Not physically, but mentally. I would retain my dignity. I would go out silently, not screaming and begging for mercy. I fought the part of me that wanted to buck their hands off, curse them into oblivion, and then bellow out to the bystanders how wrong they all were. I fought to keep my head up and my face blank. I fought to ignore the pain searing through my shoulders and arms.

Suddenly, I felt the warlock yank my arms forward. I barely managed to hold back a shriek at the new levels of pain shooting down my back and arms. He took a step forward, and I stumbled after him. Nearly blind from the pain, I still managed to notice the whispers and jeers of the crowd.

Finally we reached the end of the hall. I eyed the door ahead of me with despair, for beyond that door lay Azkaban and life imprisonment for a crime I did not commit.

My thoughts were snapped back to the present when I was shoved forward into the apparition circle. The warlock gave a last tug on my arms before handing me over to the two Aurors who had flanked us thus far. My relief at having my arms lowered was short lived, for at that moment, after a nod from the warlock, the Aurors each grabbed one of my arms, near the shackled wrists, and took two steps away from me.

I felt the blood flow thick and fast as the chains dug into my wrists. My head flew back off its own accord, and I only managed to stop myself screaming by biting my tongue, hard. Keeping their pressure on my wrists, the Aurors both apparated simultaneously.

After having my body pressed through the tube of apparition, I emerged on a rocky beach. Trying my best to ignore the pain in my arms, I looked around me. On two sides I saw rocks bordered by crashing surf and to my left I saw a wall of rock. The spit of land I stood on was about a meter wide. One step to my right and I'd be pounded to death in the ocean spray below. How ironic; I'd always wanted to go to the seashore, but somehow I never imagined it quite like this.

Tearing my eyes away from the waves, I looked up. Thousands of feet of jagged, sheer cliff rose upward, swallowed into a black starry sky.

I heard a clank behind me and turned my head to see a demon horse standing over me. He was twice as tall as a normal horse, all black, with red eyes, and huge hooves that could crush me in one go. Those satanic eyes fixed on me, and he snorted, pawing the round. I tried to step away but the Aurors, who had stood silently behind me till now, yanked me round, till my face was inches from the horses. At that moment, I swear the horse grinned, and I saw his fangs for the first time. Suddenly, my thoughts flashed back to a story I'd read once, about huge horses with red eyes and fangs. I realized what creature now stood in front of me: a Nightmare.

The Nightmare reared up its hooves, passing millimeters from my face. He turned on his back legs and came down again, leaving me staring at a giant hindquarters. The Nightmare had a harness on, with two chains running from his neck and connecting to a hook behind his hindquarters.

Suddenly, the Auror to my right shoved my from behind, forcing me to fall flat on my face. The sharp rocks dug into me, leaving bruises and scrapes. The guard then waved his wand, and all my clothing vanished from my body. For the first time I was able to fully appreciate the freezing ocean air. The Auror then took the Nightmare's hook and attached it to the chains around my wrists.

The Auror who had shoved me down now took hold of both my feet with a vice-like grip, while the other reached forward and slapped the Nightmare on the rump. He reared, and I felt the chain jerk up. I looked up to see the Nightmare climbing up the vertical cliff: walking on air. I felt the chain tighten, and then I was hanging from my wrists. My shoulders groaned at the weight. I felt a pressure and looked down to see the Auror still had a hold on my feet. The pain steadily built in my shoulders until they could no longer handle the pressure. Not being able to hold in my cries any longer, I let out a scream of agony as my shoulders dislocated. When my feet were finally released, I shot upwards, swinging about beneath the Nightmare as he increased his pace. My shoulders were laced with pain, and every bounce jarred them more. I smashed into the cliff, being dragged along it. Feeling the blood drip down my naked body, I forced myself to remain aware.

Finally, when I was barely conscious, I was dragged over the top of the cliff. By that time, I was in so much pain I couldn't even lift my head. I lay there, swimming in and out of awareness.

Next thing I knew, there was a huge hand on the back of my neck pulling me up. A gruff voice, belonging to a man I could only assume was a guard, declared, "Welcome to Azkaban," in a tone that spoke of many horrors to come.

I pried my eyes open, despite the blood dripping down my face, and caught my first glimpse of my new home. All I could see was a huge iron gate, no doubt full of pain inflicting charms. I tilted my head back to see the rest, but before I had a chance, a wave of dizziness hit me, and I finally blacked out.

_fin de capitulo quatro_


	6. Chapter 5: Unfamiliar Excitement

**Chapter Five: Unfamiliar Excitement**

Harry opened his eyes to the sight of three concerned faces staring down at him. He regained his senses, realizing that he was lying on his back on the floor of the great hall

"Harry, are you all right? Oh, I was so worried…," Hermione trialed off.

"Wha-what happened?"

"You were staring into space for over five minutes. Then you gave an agonizing scream, I swear it gave me goosebumps, and fell backwards off your bench. I was just about to call McGonagall down here, but the fall must have woken you up."

Harry started at her for a minute before his mind caught up and he blinked. Knowing he might pass out again if he sat up quickly, Harry slowly pushed himself up. Ignoring the hands offered to him (he'd been dropped one too many times falling for that trick), he pulled himself up onto the bench. Sitting back down, Harry continued eating his breakfast as if nothing had happened. After a few moments of silence, he realized that everyone continued to stare at him.

"What?" Harry snapped, glaring around the table. "I had a flashback. What's the big deal?"

"We're just worried about you, Harry!" Hermione cried.

"Worried?! Worried, oh, spare me the theatrics. Of _course_ you're _worried_ NOW! Too bad you couldn't worry about me when it would have helped!" Harry slammed his silverware back onto the table. Standing up, he grabbed his bag and stormed out of the great hall.

Fuming, Harry decided he'd simply make his way to the dungeons, as his Advanced Potionmaking class began in just a few minute. When he entered the classroom, Harry was startled to notice that the only other student in the room was Draco. Surprisingly, Malfoy was alone, as he had been on the train. Harry was puzzled as to why none of the other Slytherins seemed to hang off of Malfoy's every word this year. Perhaps the Malfoy family had fallen out of the Dark Lord's favor. Harry hadn't been keeping up with the politics for the last year and a half, obviously. Not much news made it into Azkaban, and even less made it to Harry. He had focused his attention on…other things.

For the first time since he'd come to Hogwards as a child, harry felt at home in the dungeon classroom. The cool air, dim light and unadorned walls were familiar to him. Though his memories of smaller dungeons were as far from pleasant as an emotion can get, at least they were serene and lacked the chaos of the great hall or the headache-inducing bright light of the upper floors of the castle. Harry found the quiet calmed him and the breathing of the boy on the other side of the room kept him from panicking at being alone in a dungeon room.

Pulling out the potions manual he had purchased two days ago in Diagon Alley, Harry set it on his desk with parchment and quill, noting with a mixture of anxiety and disappointment that more students were arriving and class was about to start.

The door flew open and Snape strode into the dungeon, his robes flapping behind him. Immediately all chatter ceased as students took their seats and pulled out books.

"This class will be unlike other potions classes, in that I will expect competence out of you. Any student who fails to keep up will be dropped from the class, no questions asked." Snape looked pointedly at Harry as he said this, but Harry just stared back , internally smirking. He knew Snape would be surprised at his pointing making, for it had changed over the time he had been gone. One thing that could be said for Azkaban was that it teaches one to center oneself and focus. Harry had spent the majority of the last year and a half practicing ignoring the outside world, and he knew this focus would allow him to follow the directions exactly. Plus the studying he had done had finally helped him understand the theory behind potion-making and he would now be able to comprehend the ingredients and their reactions. Harry cut off his contemplation as Snape continued talking.

"The potions we create this year will be more dangerous both in mixing and in their function. We will start with a potion of intermediate difficulty as and introduction to the more advanced potions that we will start on later. This is the Draught of Dreams potion. It's most difficult aspect is that the intention of the potion must be determined by the potion's maker. Throughout the brewing process, the maker must focus on the type of dreams they want the potion to create. The mental images of the creator will be incorporated in the potion after the halfway point. The more clear the mental images, the more fully formed and effective the potion will be. The most difficult to create is a true narrative, rather than disconnected images. I doubt any in the class will accomplish this. Turn to pace 63 of your text and begin."

Harry opened his book, reading the description of the potion. He felt an unfamiliar emotion curling in his stomach and with a start realized it was excitement. He knew he could make an excellent Draught of Dreams, or rather Nightmares.

Harry read over the recipe and stood up to go get the necessary ingredients from the cabinet. He was surprised at how few ingredients the potion actually required. Most of the work was in stirring carefully and focusing on the memories.

Carrying the ingredients back to his desk and setting them down, Harry pulled out his wand and lit a medium-size fire under his cauldron. Casting an _augumenti_ charm, he filled the cauldron halfway with water and chopped the first ingredient. At this point he was supposed to let the potion sit for five minutes. He did not yet have to focus on the images that went into the potion and glanced around the room. Everyone else seemed to be on about the same step as him. Hermione appeared to be muttering to herself and Draco seemed to be meditating with his eyes closed. No one else in the room seemed to know what to do. Harry began crushing his next ingredient, squeezing the juice out of the fruits of a plant he knew to be a hallucinogen in the Muggle world. Another unusual thing about this potion was it seemed to us Muggle ingredients more than most other potions. His five minutes were up and the scraped the juice into the potion, stirring it 15 times clockwise with a glass stirring rod while finding the third ingredient, which had the appearance of a multicolored bouncy-ball, with his other hand. When the 15 stirs were up, Harry dropped the ball into the potion, knowing it would dissolve and absorb his images.

This was the tricky part. The brewer had to focus on sending their image through their wand, while using the wand to stir the potion with a constant counterclockwise movement for as long as it took to insert the memories into the potion. Then the last two ingredients would be added, sealing the images inside the potion.

Harry began stirring his potion, falling into a trancelike state and letting the memories form into a story and flow down his wand.

_fin de capitulo cinco_


End file.
